


there’s an ordinary world

by dogeared



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Magic, Plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 06:10:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10735740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogeared/pseuds/dogeared
Summary: Whatever it is he wants to know, he can just ask Magnus.





	there’s an ordinary world

Alec’s not sure why he notices them at all—he’s certainly spent enough time on Magnus’s balcony, and he guesses he’d been vaguely aware of some potted plants, but there hadn’t been any reason to pay any more attention to them than that. Anyway, he’s usually much more focused on, well, Magnus. Why wouldn’t he be? Magnus is the brightest thing in any room. But right now, Alec’s alone on the balcony, and a shaft of sunlight is just limning the edge of some pots tucked away in a corner, and in them, the little plants that are growing, glowing, blooming.

When he crouches down to take a closer look, he sees that the pots look old, very old, and the plants do, too. Gnarled roots and stems with only a few green leaves on them, and now, delicately unfolding flowers, their scent sweet and heady. They don’t look like anything Alec’s ever seen before, in New York or anywhere else. He snaps a picture on his phone before Magnus can sweep back out onto the balcony and distract him again, filling up Alec’s senses and blocking out everything else.

Later, he shows the picture to Izzy, who quirks an eyebrow at him. (“I’m not judging!” she insists, but it feels like she is.) Alec had thought maybe she’d pull out her tablet and call up some Institute database of flora and fauna, but instead he finds himself following her to one of the library rooms, where she slips a slim book of botanical drawings off the shelf. It feels fragile in his hands, binding and glue barely holding the paper together. Alec perches on the arm of the big leather couch to look at it, and Izzy leaves him to it, but not before she sinks her fingers into his hair, scritching her nails against his scalp before he can duck out of reach. He hates it, has always hated it, and his chest aches with how much he loves her.

Back in his room, away from anyone he’d have to explain himself to, Alec pages carefully through the book, which turns out to be more like someone’s personal journal. Sketches, and detailed notes and annotations in cramped script. It looks like the kind of thing he might find on Magnus’s bookshelves. He’s not even sure what he’s looking for. Magical plants? Plants that are connected to really magical warlocks? Something about the flowers on Magnus’s balcony had just felt . . . different. Like something that should be investigated.

For all their record-keeping and intelligence-gathering, Alec understands now just how much the Clave doesn’t know about warlocks, about the whole Downworld, probably. Certainly not about Magnus. As if his whole long life, his story, could fit into the dry, black and white confines of a file. Maybe he’ll show the little book to Magnus. It’s the kind of thing he’d appreciate, and he might even know who wrote it. Alec rubs at the spot between his eyebrows where Izzy says he gets a crease when he’s overthinking things.

He’s being stupid. Whatever it is he wants to know, he can just ask Magnus.

* * *

“Out here,” Magnus calls when Alec lets himself into the loft. He’s on the balcony, and when Alec steps outside, he sees that Magnus is over in the corner, peering down at the little pots. Of course he is. “Oh, you’re blooming. Hmm. That hasn’t happened in a long time,” he muses, mostly to himself, and then he turns and smiles at Alec. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

 _You’re beautiful_ , Alec wants to say. He drifts closer, drawn toward Magnus as always. As he closes the distance between them, Magnus smiles brighter and murmurs, “Hi,” and Alec ducks in to kiss him. The evening is mild, and the air smells sweet, and Magnus’s palm curves warm and steady around Alec’s ribs, anchoring him so he doesn’t feel so much like he’s going to float away. 

He does float a little bit, though, lost in slick heat, and when he comes back to himself, he’s pressed up against Magnus, and his lips feel swollen from kissing. “Magnus,” he starts, before he realizes that he’s decided to say anything. “Are you, um.” He swallows, then rushes out, “Are you happy?” 

It’s not what he meant to ask at all. Saying the words makes his own cheeks flush hot, and he wonders if Magnus can tell how fast his heart is beating. He can’t quite make himself meet what he’s sure is Magnus’s keen gaze. Magnus’s hand is still grounding him, though, pressed to Alec’s flank and holding him close, and he’s sweeping his thumb in soothing strokes, over and over. And then Alec feels a surge of what must be Magnus’s magic; it crackles and dances over his skin like fuzzy static. It doesn’t feel dangerous. It feels safe, protective and possessive. It feels like a promise. And when Magnus says, fondly, “Alexander,” Alec thinks he knows what Magnus’s answer is going to be.


End file.
